Author's Notes: Okay, so I'm almost at the wrapping up point. A couple more chapters and that should do it. My fluff will end. I've already got my next project in the works in my head. Planning on writing a fic set after each episode from the very first til now. It won't be a stream of fics, but rather my gut reactions to the Hilson relationship after each ep, without knowing what happens next. Sound interesting? Thoughts? Anyway, enjoy this one! Keep reviewing! Thanks for reading!

Real Estate

Days swept by filled with intermittent apartment hunting, a more than pleasant Greg and a still bewildered James. Greg had stuck to his promise and although the pain had hit him hard a few times, he had not touched a Vicodin since their midnight meeting in their living room. Instead, he'd leaned on James for support, admitted his pain was nearing unbearable and had accepted help. All of these things had nearly left James speechless, but he'd never let himself falter, being the ever-supportive boyfriend. He'd applied heat, gently massaged and had provided necessary distractions.

But even thru the sporadic pain, Greg had insisted they keep each appointment made to search for their new real estate. Their first tour had been uncomfortable. Greg had told the agent over the phone that he was looking for something appropriate for a couple, but had failed to mention that it would be a same-sex couple. On their second visit, their agent had recovered from Greg's incessant mockery during their previous walk-thru, and had even slipped the words 'boyfriend' and 'partner' into their conversation without so much as a pause. But with each apartment came a reason why one man or the other, or sometimes both, didn't think it was the right choice.

Upon entering their sixth choice, James was immediately taken; hardwood floors, a spacious living room, two bedrooms, two baths, a completely remodeled kitchen and a private patio. Greg noticed James' reaction and immediately took him aside. "Is this it?"

"I like it. How far is the from work?"

"About ten miles."

"Not bad."

With a roll of his eyes, "Is this the one?"

"Do you like it?"

"Is…this…the…one?"

Knowing he would never win this battle, "Yes."

Without so much as a moment's pause, Greg turned and with a raised voice, "We'll take it."

Instant panic set in James' chest. They hadn't even talked it thru. "Greg!"

Hobbling toward the realtor, he repeated, "We'll take it."

Going with the good news and trying to avoid the panicked look coming from across the room, "Great! Let's go back to the office and get papers drawn up for the bank."

"No need. We're paying cash."

The realtor was stunned and James nearly choked on his words, "Cash? Greg? What are you talking about?"

To the realtor, "We'll meet you at the office to write up the contract." Then to James, "We'll talk on the way."

Once inside the car, James broke into a ramble. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing? We didn't even discuss this place. Do you even like it? I don't even know. And cash? I don't have that kind of cash, Greg!"

Still calm, "Are you done now?" After a nod, "Good. I like the place. You love it. It's enough for me. And I don't need any more of your money. I have enough of it."

Calmer, but still confused, "What are you talking about?"

"I've been borrowing money from you for over fifteen years. I wasn't doing it because I needed it. I am a doctor just like you, you know. I did it to see if you'd keep giving me money even though I never paid you back from any of the previous times. You never let me down. That, paired with all the money you've saved me from buying me at least one meal per day, leaves a very nice lump of cash in my bank account, probably half of which belongs to you." James was still in silent shock as he navigated the car thru the city streets. "When we sell my old place, we'll have quite a nest egg to rely on."

"You don't owe anything on it?"

"Nope. Had it on a ten-year mortgage. Paid it off over five years ago."

"And you said you had no secrets."

"Now I'm fresh out."

"Somehow I doubt that." They were both silent until they stepped up to the doorway of the realtor's office when James yanked Greg towards him and crushed their lips together in a chaste kiss. "Thank you." After a curt nod and a sideways glance, they walked in the door.

Even with the pushing from Greg's increasing impatience, they were still stuck in the office lost in paperwork for over an hour. James' smile grew with each signature, loving the fact that for the first time in his life he was actually purchasing a piece of real estate he wanted instead of submitting to the current wife's choice. Greg, on the other hand, scribbled each signature that got worse and worse, with increased annoyance.

It wasn't until James watched his partner's hand move to his right thigh that he understood Greg's desire to rush. So it was he who finally asked, "Are we almost thru here?"

With a smile from ear to ear, "I know this is a lot of paperwork, but this a serious contract." James raised his eyebrows and she took the hint. "We're almost done with this set, and the next set to put your current apartment up for sale is much smaller."

Without consulting with Greg, "We'll do that another day. Let's just finish this set." He knew Greg had been pushing himself too far. With the change in medication and recovering from brain surgery, normal daily routine would have been too much. But Greg was stubborn and no one could stand in his way. That didn't stop James from worrying, though.

With a determined speed, they signed the rest of the necessary paperwork and left the office as quickly as Greg's leg pain would carry them. Once they were in the car, "How bad is it?"

Wincing, both hands wrapped around his right thigh, "Bad."

It was only then that James noticed the beads of sweat along Greg's brow. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't remember that taking that long the last time."

"That was over fifteen years ago!" He fished in his pocket and pulled out two pills to hand to Greg. "Take these."

"What are they?"

"Just take them."

He glanced down at the pills. "That's Vicodin. No."

"Take them. I can't get you home for almost twenty minutes."

"I'll suffer, just drive!"

"Greg! Just take them!" He swatted at James' hand, the pills flew across the car. "What the hell?"

"I am not losing you over a pain!"

Guilt washed over him. He was trying to push Greg to do the one thing that he himself had said would cause him to break the deal. After a muttered apology, he broke every speed limit and traffic law known to man to get Greg home as quickly as possible. He didn't protest when they got home and James insisted upon helping him inside, taking the place of his cane.

Once he got to the couch, James went about the normal routine. First turn on the heating pad, then massaging the pain away until the heat set in. Nearly thirty minutes later, Greg's muscles relaxed and his breathing evened. He wasn't asleep, but the worst part of the pain was over. James watched him, though; legs stretched across his lap, and suddenly realized that his lover wasn't quite as much his opposite as he'd always thought. He was willing to go thru any trial in life, lose anything, suffer the pain, as long as he had James in the end.

In nothing more than a low murmur, "So was that a test?"

He was ashamed. "No. I would never do that." After no response came, he continued to explain. "You were in pain and I felt helpless. I knew that was the quickest way to make you feel better. I don't like to see you in pain."

"And if I had taken it?"

"It wouldn't have changed anything. I'm not going anywhere. Everyone might lie, but everyone does not leave."

A long moment of silence passed before Greg muttered, "Go pack. We're moving."

James chuckled, wondering whether Greg would ever truly be comfortable having intimate conversations. "And what boxes would you like me to pack?"

He opened one eye. "Go get some. I'm going to sleep." Eye closing again, he snuggled his head into the cushion and felt James wriggle out from under his legs without argument. He listened to the shuffle around the room, felt the lips pressed against his forehead and heard the door open and shut.

When James returned over an hour later, the jingle of keys woke him up. Still pretending to be asleep, he listened as several trips were made back and forth, the recognizable thump of empty boxes hitting the floor following each swish of the door opening. It wasn't until he heard the final click of the door shutting followed by the rustle of a plastic bag and the plop of a body falling into the chair that Greg finally spoke, not even bothering to open his eyes. "Where'd you get so many boxes?"

"The moving company. I rented the truck too."

He cracked open an eye, "Seriously?"

Matter-of-factly, "For the day after tomorrow."

Still not moving, "You're planning on having this whole place packed up in two days?"

Fumbling with a roll of packing tape, "No, I'm planning on us having everything packed in two days."

"I don't pack. Cripple, remember?"

"I'll carry the boxes. You can help pack them."

"You're going to carry all the boxes?"

"I hired a moving team with the truck. All we have to do is pack the boxes, label them and stack them. They load them and unload them. Beautiful thing."

"All in one day?"

Looking up from the tape that seemed to be controlled by Satan, "No, I gave them two days. I thought maybe we could get away for a night."

Sitting up from his prone position, "Get away?"

"Yeah…I…uh…called my mom. She wants us to come visit."

"Your whole family hates me."

"They don't hate you. They just…don't understand you like I do."

"I don't do family things."

"Greg, I told my mom about us."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because we said we were done hiding."

"From people at work!"

A little aggravated, "So I'm not supposed to tell my mother that I'm happy and finally in love with the person I'm actually going to spend the rest of my life with, not because of a piece of paper from the state saying we have to, but because I actually want to? Is it wrong for me to want them to look at you as the person in my life rather than the person who interrupts it?"

With a huff, he gave in. "Fine. We'll go. Get your panties out of a bunch. But don't think that I'm going to tell my family just because you told yours."

"I'd actually rather you didn't. I think your dad might kill me."

"Don't worry about the colonel. I'm sure he'll never hate you as much as he does me."

Dropping the discussion, they both focused on the task at hand. Greg volunteered to tape up boxes, remaining in his seated position, and James began packing up the boxes. The afternoon turned into evening as the packed boxes filled the living room and kitchen.

It wasn't until their pizza arrived that they took their first break. Seated on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, James asked, "So what are we going to do with the extra bedroom?"

"Don't care."

"You have to care."

"No, really I don't."

With a roll of his eyes, "Okay, we'll make it into a nursery."

Greg choked on his beer, nearly spewing it across the room. "Excuse me?"

He tried to hide the chuckle, "You said you didn't care."

"Okay, I care. No nursery." A few moments of silence passed while he wondered whether that was supposed to be some kind of hint. It's not like they ever talked about children. But he assumed it was understood. Two guys didn't have children, right? With a groan, he finally decided to just ask. "Was that…a hint of some sort?"

Trying to put up a calm front, "If it was?"

Panic pounded in Greg's chest. Surely he was joking. With a catch in his voice, "Was it?"

James took a bite of his pizza, pushing off his answer as long as possible, making Greg sweat it out. After a long pull of his beer, "Maybe."

Almost stuttering, "I…didn't realize…you wanted…kids."

"Maybe I do."

A lump rose in his throat. "Ooookaaaayyy…uh…did you have a particular number in mind?"

James turned towards his partner, propping one leg on the couch between them and tilted his head. "Are you actually considering this?" He watched as Greg swallowed hard. His whole body was tense with stress. Giving him a break, he put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Greg, I don't want children. It was just a joke."

His head whipped around, "Why would joke about something like that?"

"It's fun beating you at your own game sometimes. But it was very sweet of you to consider something like that just because you thought it was something I wanted."

His brow furrowed. "I am not sweet."

He rose with a chuckle. "Whatever, Greg."